Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Keri
Adam and I spend the rest of the afternoon together, our conversations effortless and meaningful.
It’s been nice hanging out with him. I’ve been happier today.
My smiles don’t come across as forced as usual, and I’ve even let out a snort-laugh here and there, much to his chagrin.
It’s become a game to see how often I can get him to open up.
I know he’s going through something profound.
My goodness, he’s been on the road with only his dog, Molly, to keep him company for the last two years.
Who does that? And when he cried… ugh, it left me gutted.
He’s so different from me—effortlessly relaxed and nature-loving, with sun-bleached hair and a mellow demeanor.
He’s informal, unlike the Southern men I’ve known in crisp shirts, pressed jeans, and touches of whiskey-laced swagger.
Adam lives in harmony with nature. His mindfulness anchors him as he runs from whatever haunts him.
But I know as well as he does that we can’t outrun our past.
The past is part of our history. At least we can learn from our mistakes and move forward, focusing on creating a better present and future rather than letting the past control our lives. If only Adam would let me in…
“I need to feed Molly soon,” he says. We’re lounging beneath a shade tree, sipping lavender lemonade while live guitar music drifts on the breeze.
Molly lies under Adam’s weathered chair, her snout on her paws, leash tied to the table.
Earlier, we wandered through the fields to let her stretch her legs, her exuberance unmistakable.
Watching them together, their bond is unmistakably deep.
“I have an idea,” I reply.
“What?” He grins at me, making my stomach instantly lurch into a full-blown assault of a million butterflies.
“You’ll see. Come on.”
We walk side by side with Molly trailing behind, tethered to her long leash, toward the parking area in an adjacent meadow. On the way, we stop by my abandoned table where I collect my pitiful brochures still neatly stacked in the box.
“I hope I didn’t keep you from important business,” Adam says.
“Nah.” I wave him off. “I left these brochures out for the taking. I had a much better time hanging out with you.”
There’s a definite pep in his step as we continue toward our vehicles. “You want to ride with me? Or should I follow you?”
“You and Molly follow me.”
“Okay.”
Once I’m in my car, I quickly pull down the vanity mirror and check my reflection. My blonde hair is a mess, but my blue eyes are bright, and my cheeks are sun-kissed. I guess spending the afternoon with a handsome man has its benefits.
I wait for Adam to pull out of the parking spot. He waves. I smile and wave back, ushering him to follow. We quickly traverse the country roads to my grandmother’s abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Outside my car, I wait for him to park.
Molly jumps out of the van, tail wagging as she sniffs the familiar terrain. Adam slams the door, boots crunching the gravel. “Should I get my hammer again?” He points at the metal sign lying flat in the weed-infested yard. I hadn’t even noticed until he pointed it out.
“Don’t worry about that. Come with me.” I reach for his hand and pull him down the driveway toward the house, my flat boots much easier to navigate over the uneven terrain. I lead him around back, the dried meadow grasses fluttering in the breeze.
“Where are you taking me?” He chuckles, squeezing my hand.
“You’ll see.” I grin.
We continue to the back edge of the property, toward the tree line running parallel to a babbling creek. Molly happily splashes in the slow current, pausing to lap up several mouthfuls of freezing cold water. I laugh out loud at the unexpected moment of pure bliss.
“This is awesome. You grew up here, right?”
I nod with enthusiasm. “I did. I lived right here my entire life until I went off to college. This is Elkins Creek. It runs straight into the Flint River. I used to wade in these waters every summer. My dad even taught me to fish.”
“You? Fishing?” He laughs.
I give his solid bicep a playful punch. “Yes, of course. If you walk a quarter mile that way, there’s a deeper spot filled with bluegill and catfish.
” I gesture toward the half-bloomed dogwood trees leaning over the water.
“Believe it or not, I camped here a few times with my dad as a kid. We’d build fires, roast hot dogs on wire hangers, and make s’mores. ”
“No way. I can’t picture you doing any of that.”
“Why not?” I laugh, crossing my arms against my chest.
“You’re too… put-together. You know, professional? I can’t imagine you out here in the dirt and dusty elements putting worms on a fishing hook or sleeping under the stars.”
I know he’s half-kidding, his first impression of me in my pencil skirt and designer heels throwing him off kilter.
“Oh yes. Camping was definitely something I used to do as a kid. Not so much as a teenager. Those days were spent in the back ends of pickup trucks with my friends. My dad and grandmother loved having all of us around. I think they secretly wanted to keep an eye on me. We were pretty good, for the most part. Of course, we’d have an occasional keg party around a bonfire. ”
“Ah! A kegger. Those were the days.”
“I know, right?” I laugh. “But we were harmless. We mostly blasted the radio or a Bluetooth speaker and danced for hours, stopping only when my grandmother rang the old farm bell to signal she’d had enough.” I giggle, reminiscing. Odd, I hadn’t recalled those memories in years.
Adam has his hands on his hips, and I watch a slow smile work its way across his mouth the longer I look, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Very few people surprise me, Keri.”
“Oh yeah? Well, you’re lucky. I surprise myself all the time.”
We pause and watch Molly happily pick up a stick near the water’s edge. She brings it to Adam and drops it at his feet. He picks it up and flings it into the field.
“Go get it, girl!”
The retriever barks before she takes off, her golden, fluffy tail fluttering behind her like a sail. I giggle again.
“So why did you want me to come out here, Keri? Do you want to go fishing or something?”
I suppress a broad smile. “Nope.”
“A quick dip in the creek?” He points toward the water.
“Nope. Still way too cold this time of the year.”
“Hmmm.” He nods. “I know. You want to build a fire, roast hot dogs, and make s’mores? It is almost dinner time.” He glances at his rugged smartwatch.
“Maybe… once you’re settled.”
The space between his brows crinkles with confusion. “Once I’m settled? What does that mean?”
I’m bold and loop my arm around his, leading him away from the creekbank back toward the house. “I’d like to offer you this property as a home away from home.”
He stops. Molly gallops right up to him with the retrieved stick in her mouth.
He throws it again before turning and facing me, uncertainty marring his expression.
“I’m not following you, Keri. I’m not interested in purchasing a home at this time.
But you would definitely be my first call if I ever changed my mind. ”
I’m touched by his sentiment and clear my throat, eager to explain my offer.
“I’m not trying to sell you a home right now.
Hear me out, okay? No one lives here anymore, Adam.
I haven’t had a single inquiry on this property in ages.
It’s sat empty, deserted, and forgotten.
It’s too remote and isolated. That’s why I don’t live out here alone.
There are still several large pieces of furniture inside—an antique couch, some bookshelves, and a table with chairs.
I’ve kept the utilities running for the HVAC system to prevent freezing in winter and mold in summer.
The stove is electric, and the refrigerator still works.
It’s filled with bottled water I provide for the cleaning crew.
The plumbing remains functional too. I always have the cleaners flush the pipes each month. ”
He scratches the stubble on his handsome face. “So, you… You want me to stay here?”
I glance at the back of the old farmhouse, weathered boards holding countless memories.
“I thought you might want a change of pace. Stretch out on private land. Park your van in a safe spot with privacy, where no one will hassle you. You’d have a place for a real shower. You could… breathe a little.”
“Breathe a little?” he questions.
I chew on my lower lip before the words I’ve really wanted to say come out in a rasp of longing. “You know, stay for a while?”
He eyes me with surprise before he looks out over the land, his long hair blowing back from his handsome face as he contemplates my offer. There’s a visible conflict: a part of him seems grateful, while another part still hesitates, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
I know I’ve only known Adam for a very short time.
But I also know that I don’t need a crisis to change my life.
I just need one honest moment. Every real shift I’ve ever made has come from a tiny, quiet moment of honesty: I like Adam.
I like him a lot. But what I don’t like is thinking about him sleeping in some random parking lot at night and paying for a shower.
Or having to keep Molly locked up every time he goes out to dinner or dancing.
I can offer him and his dog a private space to park and rest for a while.
To roam free for as long as he wants to.
I don’t need confidence to do that. I don’t need certainty, or even a game plan.
I just need to finally admit to myself the truth about what I want. And I want Adam to stay.
I sigh after a few seconds waiting for him to respond.
“No strings attached. Totally free. I just thought—” My speech is unexpectedly cut off as he grabs me by the arms and presses his mouth against mine.
I melt in his embrace, his lips warm and inviting.
Although the kiss is brief, I have my answer.
Adam is staying.